


Crossroads

by dragonagemage



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Agender Character, Angst but also fluff, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, I tried to fix it but I think I just made it worse, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Attempted Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon Fix-It, Redemption Arc But Not Really?, References to Depression, Serious Injuries, Tags May Change, Unhealthy Relationships, post-canon AU, trash fic that I need to get out of my system
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagemage/pseuds/dragonagemage
Summary: Carlton Drake lives, if barely. Riot survives, weakened, and desperately needs a new host while he recovers enough to search for his original one, who is his best - and probably only - chance of setting things right. Anne cannot accept Venom, and Eddie is willing to sacrifice much for a second chance. Defining, then redefining yourself all over again, is far from easy. Having someone in your head doesn't mean you're any less lonely. Valery White is left at a crossroads - of identity, of truth, of perception. Two beings, vastly different, meet; both left alone by those who were the other half of them.An idea that might become a story.





	1. The Beginning of Things

**Author's Note:**

> An AU, based only on the movie. Agender OC. Touches upon some dark subjects, rated M for a reason.

Valery White could never say they were anything else but a mess of a human being.  
The random 10-hour work shifts did nothing to remedy the glaring lack of anything that could even remotely be called a social life, which in turn did nothing good for their already poor emotional state.  
Add to that the constant worrying about the next month's rent for their incredibly tiny, barely-furnished studio apartment, and the constant impression they were somehow wasting their life - given the fact they had none of the things their peers had, and even fewer of the things expected at that point in their life - and you get...nothing good.  
Simply put, Valery White was going through what the kids call an existential crisis.

They sighed, running a hand through their rain-drenched hair ( _of course_ they forgot to bring an umbrella), and tried to fish around their backpack blindly for their misplaced keys, given that the dim street lights were of no help, and their phone battery ran out hours ago.  
"Great. Just _great._ This night _could not_ get any worse," they muttered to themself, one hand shielding their eyes from the whips of rain. Their fingers finally closed around the cool metal of the keys, and they felt a brief spark of triumph in their chest, only for it to be brutally extinguished as the keys slipped from their shaking, wet fingers and landed with a splash into the rainwater.  
They cursed, trying to grab the mockingly glimmering metal with their free hand, only to see it slip right through a grate.  
At that point, they shut their eyes tightly, lowering their hands and letting the pouring rain batter against their face, fighting down the blinding rage which welled up in their chest.  
Apparently, their night _could_ get worse. Much worse.  
Expletives which would make a seasoned sailor blush leaving their lips, they crouched to try and fish their keys out of the filthy water and god-knows-what gathered underneath the grate.  
They could see the keys, caught on something just a few inches past the grate, mockingly glimmering in the murky water and muck. Grimacing, they tried to fit their hand through, the tips of their fingers brushing against the keyring.  
Just a few more inches.  
_If I don't get the black plague and die from whatever the rain washed down here._  
They strained, the rusted metal of the grate digging into their palm.  
Just a little more. Just a little.  


_Something_ lunged out of the water, enveloping their fingers, and they screamed, yanking their hand back.  
They landed backwards into the water, panicked eyes on their slime coated fingers. Not thinking and fueled only by fear, they frantically tried to scrape whatever it was off with the help of filthy rainwater.  
Only, their hand was clean.  
Well, relatively.  
Whatever they'd seen was entirely gone, leaving only rainwater, mud, and assorted street filth on their fingers.  
They swallowed, the frantic beating of their heart drowning out even the merciless rain.  
_But it was there. Something was there just seconds ago._  


They blinked, the adrenaline waning, leaving them highly aware of the cold, soaked and shivering in the pouring rain.  
Eyeing the mocking glimmer of their keys in the grate, they wisely decided to wake the landlady instead.  


 

 

Once inside their apartment, they shoved the drenched clothing into the outdated washing machine, took a scalding hot shower, and fixed themself a cup of hot cocoa with the last of the milk they had in the fridge.  
_I'll have to go grocery shopping tomorrow._  
Thinking that always formed a knot in their stomach, with how little money they had and how hard they struggled just to make ends meet with their miserable job.  
_Serves me right for not going to college. Serves me right for a lot of things. Aw, fuck, I'm doing it again. No self-deprecating thoughts, Val._  


They settled in front of their laptop with a steaming mug of hot cocoa, and decided to go through at least two or three episodes of any crappy sci-fi show they could find before bed.  
One could call it escapism, but they preferred to call it...hell, okay, it was escapism. Who cares. As long as it works, right?  


 

 

They woke up with incessant, grating pain located somewhere between their temples, and a subtle but present nausea. For a while, they considered just staying in bed.  
_Hell. I knew I picked up some disease from that gross water yesterday. God knows what was in there. Maybe I'll die._  
They chuckled darkly at their own morbid joke, and rolled listlessly out of bed to make coffee.  
They may feel like dying, but the rent still wouldn't pay itself.  


 

 

"Oh. Hey Valerie! How you doin' girl?"  
They grit their teeth, resisting the sudden overwhelming urge to punch Brandon's stupid grinning face in.  
No matter how many times they told him, he still insisted on making them feel like shit.  
Not that much was needed, that particular day.  
His annoying, too-wide grin visibly fell as he saw their face.  
"Hell, sweetheart. You look like shit."  
They merely managed a glare.  
_And you're acting like one._  
Everything about the man was infuriating, from his stupid grin to his stupid sweaters, and his bleached hair. In that given moment, even moreso than usual.  
Gritting their teeth harder, they bit down on the retort and walked over to their desk instead.  


By noon, they'd vomited twice.  
Making their way back from the toilet, they did their best to avoid various concerned and vindictive looks from their coworkers.  
_Positive work environment, my ass._  
They swallowed, fighting the once-again rising nausea.  
_I must have really picked up something._ Then; _I hope Brandon gets it._  
They barely made it to the end of their shift.  


Once back in their apartment, they didn't even bother to put away their things, just dropping their backpack by the door and kicking off their shoes, before curling up on the couch.  
That didn't last for even five minutes, before they were rushing to the bathroom again, to part violently with the remains of their lunch.  
_This is bullshit._  


They brushed their teeth and washed their face, staring at themself in the mirror when they finished.  
Even they could see something was very, very wrong.  
They looked almost bloodless, except for the bruising under their eyes. A sheen of sweat was clinging to their brow, plastering stray hairs to their skin.  
"I have to call a doctor," they murmured to themself, running a hand down their face.  
Even that seemed to take more effort than usual.  
  
_**You can't do that.**_  


They stepped away from the mirror, frantically looking around for the source of the voice, their heart hammering in their chest.  
  
_**I need you.**_  


The taste of panic was harsh and metallic; they realized they'd bitten their lip.  
Then, they let out a shaky laugh.  
Damn the neighbors and their tv. It must have been the tv.  
  
Forgoing dinner, they crawled into bed.

That was a _bad_ idea.  


 

 

It was _hunger_ that woke them. Horrible, maddening agony twisting their insides. Throwing the blankets aside, they rushed over to the fridge almost tearing the door from its hinges.  
Frozen broccoli. Expired butter. Two raw eggs.  
They tore open the plastic, shoving a handful of vegetables in their mouth, ice and all, before spitting them out as the most revolting taste hit them.  
_What the fuck am I doing?_  
They scooped the butter with their fingers, eating it next. It was almost tolerable. Almost.  
Eggs next.  
_I can't fucking eat raw eggs._  
  
They grabbed a pan out of the cabinet - the eggs weren't even half cooked when they caved in and devoured them.  
  
_God, I need to get some food._  


Grabbing their jacket and their wallet, they ran all the way to the corner store, the only thing still open at the ungodly hour. They were almost out the door with the handful of chocolate and packets of frozen mozzarella sticks, when they collided with someone wearing an ugly, patterned sweater and a wide, shit-eating grin.  
"Imagine seeing you here! Need a bit of help, hm?"  
  
With a patronizing smile, he reached out to steady them, his hand closing on their upper arm.  
The next thing they heard was the sound of impact, a cry, and they saw blood seeping though his fingers as he held his face, swearing.  
  
Valery dropped their food, and ran.  


They stopped in an alley a good distance away, their breath burning in their lungs along with fear and panic.  
"God. What the fuck. What the fuck is happening? I punched him. But I _didn't_ punch him. _I_ didn't... What the fuck," they kept muttering to themself, shaking with both exertion and fear. "What the fuck. I didn't. I need to call a doctor-"  
_**No.**_  
They straightened, eyes darting around the alley for the source of the voice.  
_**You will do no such thing.**_  
There was no one, no one but themself and their apparently shattered sanity.  
  
_**While I heal, I need a host. I was greatly weakened, and I need time. But you will listen, if you wish to live.**_  
_**My name is Riot.**_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I had to get out of my system after watching the movie. If there are any readers interested in this, it will be continued. The final outcome regarding the pairing will in that case be up to the readers to decide, the options being Venom/OC, Riot/OC or Carlton Drake/OC. Thank you for reading.


	2. Salvation

It was disgusting, having him under their skin. Like something _wrong_ was stuck there, just underneath the surface, squirming as if their skin itself was too small a confinement for it.  
They absent-mindedly rubbed their shoulder, then pulled the hood of their jacket lower.  
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" they muttered, barely audible over the traffic. They _could_ talk to him in their mind, but it was something they hated. They held almost blindly to that, last illusion of their own identity.  
_**Silence! Yes. I am sure. Keep going.**_  
They swiped the card over the panel - the signal light turned green, and the doors opened with a silent hiss.  
"It's just, I don't sneak into high-security Life Foundation buildings every day, you know."  
The symbiote didn't deign them worthy of a reply.  
They inched down the empty hallway, lit by emergency lighting, keeping close to the walls.  
_**Stop acting like a coward! You wish to be rid of me, yes?**_  
They swallowed, nodding - more to themself than for him. It was apparently enough of a reply for the symbiote.  
_**Then help me reach Drake, and you will be free.**_  
The knot of anxiety in their stomach only increased. They were certain the symbiote wouldn't care much for them once he had another host, but the prospect of once more having their own mind to themself was worth the risk.  
They reached a set of glass doors and, keeping close to the wall, peeked inside.  


It was a hospital room.  
Whoever it was on the bed was shielded by heavy curtains, the constant, monotone beep of machinery the only thing breaking the silence.  
_**Yes! That's him. Now, get me inside. ******_ ** ******  
  
Easier said than done.  
  
Looking around, making sure they were alone -well, relatively alone - in the hallway, they swept the card across the panel at the door, and stepped into the room.  


What remained of Carlton Drake was...not much.  
They fought nausea, eyes glued to the protective cylinder which shielded what they assumed was once the head of Life Foundation himself from the air. Tubes weaved in and out of his body, various machines attached to them, tasked with even the most basic functions, carrying - Valery only assumed - liquid and nutrients and oxygen. They couldn't be sure.  
_**Most of me was burned with him.**_  
Valery jumped at the voice, even though it echoed only in their mind. There was a curious tone to it. Regret? No...rage.  
_**Now. Find a way to get me to him.**_  
Meddling in any way with the equipment they didn't understand seemed a very bad idea to them, but they dutifully obeyed the voice, hoping to have their mind to themself again. They opened a nearby port with shaking fingers.  
Alarms blared, deafening Riot's shout of triumph, crimson light spilling over the room.  
The symbiote detached himself from Valery, the formless mass snaking down their arm and through the opened port, until it finally reached the body in the cylinder.  
Then, Valery was left empty.  
After days of this dual existence, it felt...less freeing than they thought, and more terrifying. Like half their thoughts spilled over and vanished, leaving behind an aching emptiness in their mind, shaped to fit something that was no longer there.  
A curious hollowness settled in their bones, of the kind that made them no longer care when the armed and armored guards burst into the room, weapons trained on Valery's chest, set to kill.  
They raised their eyes not to the guards, but to the changing mass now within the cylinder, to the flesh reconnecting and bones mending, to the broken thing that was once more in the shape of a man.  
But they were empty.  
Hollow.  
_Hurting._  
Their world swam out of focus.  



	3. Dissent

"This should not be happening!"  
His voice broke on the last syllable, but Riot showed no signs that he acknowledged it. Carlton Drake looked away, eyes darting around the empty meeting room as he was searching for the right words.

"I should _not_ be seeing their... memories!"  


Riot remained immovable, his form partially detached from Drake's body to be able to face his host himself.  
  
_**Do you have any idea how much it took to fix you?**_  
  
Drake's eyes found the milky, narrowed ones of the symbiote.  
  
_**Do you have any idea how much of them I had to devour to achieve even this?**_  
  
Drake opened his mouth, closing it immediately as the symbiote bared his teeth in an expression equally a threat and a grin.  
  
_**You should be grateful, even frail as you are. Do you have any idea how little remained of me, and how much it took to mend injuries this old, reduced as I was? Alive, yes. But now, we are so much weaker than Venom and his host.**_  
  
Drake's face darkened with undiluted rage, hatred igniting in his eyes at the mention of the name, hatred of the kind which almost made even the symbiote shrink away. But Riot remained in place, staring into the eyes of his host.  
  
His work was unfinished, incomplete, and it showed - Carlton Drake's human body barely held together even despite Riot's best efforts.  
  
_**It will take more. Much more. And they are a viable host. We need them.**_  
  
The symbiote leaned closer, baring further his sharp, pointed teeth.  
  
_**You alone cannot sustain me. Tell me, what will happen when your organs begin to fail, and there is no other viable host?**_  
  
Drake pressed his lips into a thin, furious line, but remained silent. The symbiote laughed.  
  
_**I thought so.**_  
  
Drake was silent for a few moments longer, the quiet of the empty meeting room heavy and oppressive, before looking up to meet the symbiote's milky eyes. He was looking through him, instead of at him; his empty eyes fixed on the ghosts which even Riot - who went through those very flames with him, and shared his mind - couldn't see.  
  
"Whatever it takes. Edward Brock cost me everything, and I will have him know what that feels like...before the end."  
  
Seeing Drake that empty, that consumed by a singular purpose, even Riot didn't find it in himself to come up with a retort. 


	4. Covenant

They woke up with a familiar heaviness in their chest, the presence they've learned to recognize but never accept, already there before they even opened their eyes.  
_No, no, no, no, no! It's inside me again._  
Their eyes shot open, only for them to be blinded by the neon light and sterile white which surrounded them.  
When their vision cleared, the face of a man standing by their bed came into focus, a face they knew from newspaper articles and magazine covers.  
"Carlton Drake!"  
It left their lips before they could think, before they could stop themself. They tried to sit up, but he smiled, shaking his head.  
"Easy, Mx. White. You've been through a lot." His expression was one of perfect, benevolent calm.  
Something about the man unnerved them - perhaps it was exactly that perfect, flawless veneer of calm. Carlton Drake was calm the same way the eye of the storm was calm, they thought. Something about his serenity promised destruction. It was there, they just couldn't put their finger on it. Or perhaps it was the symbiote, the wrongness once again seething under their skin. They swallowed.  
Sunlight outside failed utterly to pierce the thick, pristine white curtains. It was present merely as a faint glow around the edges of the thick fabric, replaced entirely by the sharp, neon lighting. But Valery could sense it, and suddenly they yearned desperately to feel the sun on their skin.  
They tried to sit up at least halfway; a pointless act of rebellion, or an attempt to salvage some of their dignity. They tried supporting their weight on their elbows - and discovered they could barely do so - as questions finally spilled forth from their lips.  
"Where am I? What happened? I- Dr. Drake? Why is the...why is it still-?"  
Carlton Drake raised his hand to silence them, a gentle smile still playing on his lips.  
"I would like to thank you, Mx. White. You have done me a great service. You have risked much to bring this - amazing lifeform - to me, and to ensure my full recovery. For that, you have my sincere gratitude."  
His voice was calm and measured, as if he was addressing a hall full of dignitaries, and not one person barely able to sit up. His warm brown eyes were on theirs, never straying, the smile never leaving his lips - and they found the questions dying on their own.  
"However - unfortunately - the symbiote you harbored had been injured, and in the process you also suffered significant damage, rendering you unable to function without it...for the time being."  
He extended his hand, brushing his fingers suddenly feather light across their upper lip. Startled at the unexpected intrusion into their space, they were even more terrified at seeing the tips of his fingers stained crimson with blood. They hadn't noticed they were bleeding until then.  
Suddenly silent, almost thoughtful, Drake smeared the droplets of blood across his fingertips, then - looking up to see the rising panic in their eyes - he gently placed his hand on their arm.  
"We will do everything we can - I promise you this, for all the good you've done. For the time being, however, it is best that the symbiote remains with you, and you in our care. In _my_ care." He smiled again, as if the brief moment of contemplation never happened.  


Fear still rose like the tide in their chest, where the _thing_ waited, coiled around and within their flesh and bone. It stirred at the words, and Valery knew - despite it not speaking a word - that something was gravely wrong.  
They stared at the mesmerizing brown eyes of Carlton Drake, the eyes which his smile never reached, and they knew they were walking into a trap without seeing it.  
  
_**He is lying, of course. I am inside you because he is too weak, and my presence would eat him alive. So you are his scapegoat, Valery White, and that is to be your fate instead. But it doesn't have to be so. I had hoped his usefulness would not run out as it did. I was wrong. He is weak - left with less than I expected. But we...we could make a deal, you and I.**_  
  
Valery met Drake's eyes, a smile forming on their lips. Soft. Tentative. Artificial. When they spoke, their words weren't for him.  
  
"I see. I accept."  


Only much later did they realize that they were left with his fingerprints on their skin, in their own blood.  



	5. Shadows

**Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. _Eddie._ EDDIE!**  
"WHAT?!"  
The elderly lady waiting at the crossing beside him started, and gave him a frightened, wide-eyed look, obviously inching away.  
Great. That was a good way to start his day.  
Eddie Brock buried his hands deeper in his pockets, trying to avoid eye contact with the passers-by, many of which were now openly staring.  
**You've been ignoring me. Also, drone.**  
"I haven't been _ignoring you_. You know Anne doesn't like... In a fight it's one thing, but a... a Sunday dinner with-"  
**DUCK!**  
Tendrils shot out of his back, covering his face and pulling him down and out of the way as an explosion showered him and the other pedestrians in sparks and debris. Smoke lingered in the air after, sneaking into his lungs with an acrid bite to it, making his eyes water.  
**Which part of "drone" didn't you understand?**  
Venom sounded unamused, but Eddie straightened slowly, disbelieving of the destruction around them.  
"But...wh-....?"  
**Haven't we been in this situation before? You know, with me saving our ass and you making us look like a loser?**  
That broke through the haze of confusion, and Eddie frowned, instinctively reacting to the already familiar jabs.  
"It's _my_ ass. And you're the reason it needs saving in the first place."  
Venom chuckled.  
**Nice to feel appreciated.**  
Both fell silent as Eddie approached the remains of the drone, smashed metal and plastic smoking amidst the debris. One of the larger fragments, while free of any name or other writing, still bore a sign which Eddie Brock would recognize anywhere; every one of his failures, each loss, every mistake he ever made - all bore that same sign.  
"He's dead. He has to be dead. I saw him die," he muttered, his eyes on the shattered remains, dread coiling in his stomach.  
There was a long stretch of silence, both the man and the symbiote disregarding the crowd that slowly gathered to gawk at the destruction.  
**Not calling you a liar, Eddie. But maybe we should go back and look again.**  
**Just in case.**  


 

 

"Sir! Sir, I can't let you do that. You have to return to bed. Sir?"  
Valery froze, their hand extended towards the keypad, long, sharp blades protruding from the tips of their fingers, yet invisible to the lab technician as they were facing away.  
"...Sir?"  
They spun in place, claws retracting, and saw fear bloom in the woman's eyes. It was useless to pretend anyway - not that they could anymore. There were things they were no longer able to suppress nor hide.  
She took an instinctive step backwards. They could hide the claws, but the way they moved betrayed them - too much fluid strength for it to ever be human. Their eyes, now without pupils, enveloped in pale grey, settled on her.  
Her dark hair was tied back, an identity card was clipped to the front pocket of her lab coat, and the clipboard she was carrying threatened to fall from her shaking hands.  
Their eyes briefly lingered on the gold band on her finger.  
She swallowed, looking up at them. To her credit, she spoke again, even if her voice was breaking.  
"Sir...you can't be doing that."  
Valery felt their lips pull into a smile - wide, too wide for their human face.  
_**Oh, I think we can. ******_ ** ******  
They took another step towards her, closing in too swiftly for her to register before they were standing right in front of her.  
Waves of fear rolled off her; panic and terror, and they could smell all of it, they could taste her frantic heartbeat in the air, adrenaline rushing through her veins. It was almost sickeningly sweet, and they were ravenous.  
_**A pity, really.**_  
Another step.  
Passing under the neon lights overhead cast their face in most unflattering shadows - making their smile too wide, the shadows in the lines of their face alive and writhing.  
There was a broken scream, and then silence.  


 

They tore through the wire as if it were nothing, taking with them chunks of concrete as they leapt over the perimeter wall and found themselves amidst the surrounding trees.  
The sky was overcast, heavy clouds obscuring the sliver that was the new moon, but darkness was no longer an obstacle to them.  
Already, there were searchlights and shouting behind them, but they had a significant advantage.  
They were hungry.  


 

Valery stopped to lean against a tree, ignoring the shouts growing closer, their vision - though perfect in the dark - obscured by sweat, and blood, and their own tears.  


They fought to breathe, sinking to their knees and emptying their stomach - but there was nothing anymore for their body to part with.  
"You killed her. You killed them all."  
Their voice came as broken sobs, but they were numb, and nothing truly hurt - not the wounds torn open and stitched back together immediately after, and not what they did.  
Maybe it will later, they thought hazily. Maybe when it sinks in what they've truly done.  
"And you...you ate..." they fought for breath, their bloodied nails sinking into the tree bark.  
_**Get up.**_  
Against their will, their body moved forward, long strings of liquid darkness remaining attached to the tree where their fingers had been seconds ago.  
_**Something is wrong.**_  


Valery could tell that much, for all the - blood? no, something _else_ \- which oozed from their skin, leaving a bitter, burning taste in their mouth, and soaked their ruined clothing.  
They moved forwards, but those few steps took more effort than they could ever imagine. It was a horrifying sensation - being both out of control of their own body, and out of sync with it.  


They knew that there were at least two surviving mercenaries, heavily armed and armored, after them - as well as Carlton Drake himself. All of his other security guards they killed, tore apart, and...  
_No. I cannot think about this._  


There was a presence to their left, they could feel a heartbeat - and they felt their hand twist and morph into a blade, before that same blade sank into a guard's stomach.  
The other stopped in his tracks, before their other hand closed around his throat, and squeezed.  
The breaking of bone under their fingers was satisfying. Sick, and horrifying, and satisfying in a way that left them with a need to vomit.  
_I don't want this._  


Their skin was writhing with shadows, alive with a million tendrils that could no longer properly bond to it.  
_**Something is wrong, Valery!**_  
They could almost feel the panic in the symbiote's voice, but that couldn't have been right. Riot feared nothing. Riot wasn't even human.  


There was movement in the stillness, and they raised their empty eyes to meet the familiar, warm brown pair.  


"You broke your promise to me, Valery."  
Carlton Drake's voice was calm, if trembling. Something in his eyes, in the way they never strayed from their own even amidst the carnage, made whatever sanity was left in Valery urge them to _run_.  
_Run, and never look back._  
His usually immaculate suit was stained with mud and blood, but nothing around him seemed to reach him - his eyes were on Valery, on _Riot_ alone, as he continued to advance.  
_I cannot go back._  
_Please, no._  
Valery didn't know who they were begging, their thoughts barely their own, mind half shattered with fear, and horror, and everything they'd done.  
More of the living darkness poured from them, seeping from their nose, the corners of their mouth, coating their skin.  
More and more the hollowness returned, the sensation of being incomplete.  
Riot was leaving them.  


There was a brief moment where the desperate, primal part of them screamed at the loss. They should have been relieved, they should have been eager to be free, but they were nothing but empty.  
Drake had almost reached them, his suit spattered with blood not his own.  
_I cannot go back._  


A final, familiar touch reached their thoughts.  
It was at the same time familiar and alien; they were used to Riot's presence in their thoughts being painful, controlling, trying to drown out everything else.  
This was none of those things.  
_**Go. ******_ ** ******  


Images flooded them, vistas they were sure they never saw, for the briefest of moments, before he was _gone_.  
Valery turned, and ran.  


Their muscles screamed with pain, half-healed wounds tearing open anew. Every last vestige of their energy pushed into that final attempt at freedom, their body running solely on adrenaline and nothing else.  
  
They turned around once, to see Carlton Drake extend a shaking hand towards the writhing mass that was once part of them, towards whatever remained of the thing that was _Riot_.  
That was _them._  
They turned around just once.  


 

 

Eddie killed the engine a good distance away from the facility, not wanting light or sound to give him away.  
Sure enough, there was light in the windows - several floors of the facility appeared to be operational - and the sounds of shouting and gunfire coming from the grounds.  
"Shit. Do you think they keep any more people here?"  
The symbiote was silent. Eddie spoke again, his voice barely audible;  
"Do you think anyone got away?"  


Just as he uttered those words, the snapping of branches to his right caught his attention, Venom immediately enveloping half of his body, ready to fully shield his host any moment.  


What stumbled out of the trees was definitely human, though that was hard to tell at first, with the amount of drying blood and mud that covered them. Their skin was bloodless, their eyes empty and unseeing, as they stumbled and fell to their knees, only to topple over onto the forest floor. The front of their ruined clothes was covered with vomit, their sweat-soaked hair was sticking to their skin, and the lower half of their face was covered in blood much like their broken and ruined nails. Doubtless, one of Drake's unfortunate 'volunteers'.  
Eddie swore, rushing - too late - to catch them. But it was Venom's voice that shook him to his core, because Eddie had never before heard the symbiote sound so alarmed and alert as right then, the moment his fingers made contact with their skin.  
**Eddie. We think we're needed.**


	6. Serendipity

Valery White woke up to darkness.  
It wasn't a heavy, oppressive darkness, permeating every inch of their being and trying to overpower them, push them out of their own body, their own mind.  
No, this was a comforting darkness, stretching to cover them, shield them from the outside world while never breaching into the innermost part of their mind.  
It was safe.  
Friendly.  


"You're new," they muttered, not opening their eyes.  
There was a vague sense of smug satisfaction emanating from their newest tenant, one they weren't sure they should be able to feel.  
**Yes. It wasn't easy.**  
Was that a note of _pride_ they were hearing?  
**So many things wrong. So many things broken. But now, we're fine. ******  
Valery chuckled weakly, their mind still enveloped in a comfortable haze of numbness and disbelief.  
_If I don't think about it, it didn't happen._  
"'We' already? Damn. Could have taken me out to dinner first, or something."  
The symbiote laughed.  
**We can still go. Plenty of...bad...people about,** Venom suggested, testing Eddie's words like something foreign.  
_Ah, there it is. The thing you don't want to think about._  
Slowly, Valery opened their eyes.  
Afternoon sun shone through the heavy, parted curtains, specks of dust caught in the sunbeams.  
They were sprawled on a ratty, faded couch, apparently bathed and wearing clothes which weren't their own, in someone else's messy, run-down apartment.  
_Still bigger than my own._  
Carefully, they tried to sit up, inspecting their arms - other than feeling slightly stiff and sore, they seemed to be in perfect health, all the cuts and bruises healed and gone from their skin.  
_Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and I'm talking to myself._  
They looked around, taking in the shabby furniture, the clothes strewn over chairs, empty food wrappers... and the malevolent-looking blob of dark goo perched on their left shoulder, peering up at them with narrowed, milky eyes.  
_Not a dream._  
_Fuck._  
At that moment, a man entered the room - muscular and short-haired, wearing baggy sweatpants, a stained shirt, and a look of long-suffering acceptance on his face.  
"You're up."  
It was a statement, and he set one of the two steaming cups he was carrying on the coffee table for Valery, before taking a seat on the only free chair with his own cup of whatever it was that was the source of the delicious, chocolate smell.  
Before Valery could speak, the thing on their shoulder extended its otherwise formless mass towards the cup, and shoved what passed as its face entirely into the chocolate.  
Both Valery and the man stared for a long moment, speechless.  
"Name's Eddie Brock. Reporter," he finally said, tearing his eyes from the ravenous, ambitious blob with some effort.  
"And this is-"  
**We are Venom,** the symbiote hissed, leaving the cup just long enough to speak, before renewing his efforts.  
Valery stared.  
_Lovely. Just lovely._  
Riot was one thing, but this...  
Their attention snapping back to Eddie when the reporter cleared his throat, they spoke.  
"I'm Valery White. Thank you for...saving my life, I guess."  
Uncomfortable, they looked away. The previous night - and several before - were something they'd be happy never to think about again.  
_You cannot run, Valery._  
Shoving the uncomfortable thought away, they focused on Venom. Eddie followed their gaze.  
"Ah. Erm. Yes. There are some things that need an explanation-"  
Ungodly slurping sounds cut off whatever it was he was about to say. A moment later, Venom looked up - Valery noticed that the cup was now perfectly clean - to look between his temporary host and Eddie. His form shifted, widened, more of him emerging out of Valery's skin, his face mimicking human in size. It was to allow him a wide smile, filled with teeth.  
**Simple. Once your insides can be convinced to stay on the inside, we go back to Eddie.**  



	7. Creature Comforts

**_Chocolate._ And-**  
"Can you please keep quiet for five minutes?"  
Valery whispered into the hood of the borrowed jacket, slightly too large and smelling strongly of a brand of deodorant they never used before.  
"Not that I don't like talking, you're lovely and all, but I'm talking to _myself_ and they're staring. Enough with the chocolate."  
No reply, as they made their way through the crowded streets.  
A simple thing, buying some groceries. Better than going crazy in Eddie's apartment, like a caged animal.  
The first time they were in public with Venom.  


Unlike Riot, Venom actually respected their wishes most of the time, not delving too deeply into their mind. They tried no to dwell on the fact they had _two_ alien parasite experiences to compare.  
Valery stopped in front of a small store, looking up at the large neon sign and various flyers taped to the window. Swallowing, they focused on their breathing until the pounding of their heart slowed, falling out of sync with the erratic flickering of neon, and panic slowly released its grip on them.  
"Okay, we can do this."  


They did their best to attract the least possible amount of attention - which, with the hood of their jacket up, yielded opposite results.  
They walked through the aisles, trying to avoid the curious and often judgmental eyes of the other shoppers - which was notoriously difficult once they had to wrestle their own hand to release a family-sized bag of chips.  
" _Venom!_ This is _not_ blending in." They hissed to the symbiote, getting nothing in return but the sensation of tendrils gathering into a small blob at the spot where their neck met their shoulder. They caught the fleeting sight of a set of milky eyes in the darkness of their hood.  
" _No!_ We're leaving."  


Grabbing their groceries, they walked up to the register, wanting to be out of the store and out of sight as soon as possible.  
They reached into their pocket to grab the money Eddie had lent them.  


Thin, dark tendrils immediately wrapped around their wallet, pulling in the opposite direction.  
" _Seriously?_ " they muttered, trying and failing to keep their voice low and the movement of their lips invisible.  
They tugged again, meeting the same resistance.  
"Not. The time. For pranks," they whispered angrily, punctuating every part of the sentence with a tug on their - immovable - wallet.  
Several of the other shoppers now turned to them, poorly concealing the fact that they were staring... which was perfectly understandable, as Valery was now playing tug-o-war with their own pocket, with an openly angry expression on their face.  
An elderly lady nearly dropped her shopping basket, completely engrossed in the inexplicable scene. A small boy tugged on his mother's hand, and pointed to Valery as they continued their struggle.  
" _Let. Go._ "  
They put all their strength into the final tug - and felt the tendrils withdraw midway through it.  
Unable to stop the momentum, they ended up viciously launching their wallet, and watched with dawning horror as it sailed above the shoppers' heads and into the shop window.  
The shop fell silent, except for the inappropriately happy tune coming from the speakers.  
"That's... I- I...have a condition."  
No one moved.  
Their cheeks burning, they scrambled for their wallet, which was laying open on the floor like some particularly unfortunate bird, muttering apologies all the while.  
At _least_ the window didn't break.  
The cashier handed them their groceries in silence, and the same silence followed them out of the store even after they muttered an awkward goodbye.  
  
  
Once out on the street, they barely resisted the urge to punch themself in the face just to get back at the infuriating symbiote. Instead, they settled for pinching the bridge of their nose in frustration, briefly closing their eyes.  
"What the _bloody hell, _Venom?!"__  
Dark tendrils wrapped carefully around their wrist underneath the sleeve of the too-large jacket, just out of sight.  
**We only wanted-**  
A passing businessman gave them a wide-eyed look, as they were apparently talking to themself. Noting the growing alarm in the eyes of the people walking past them, they fell silent, deciding to find a better place to argue.  


They didn't stop walking until they were in one of the alleys, empty save for the piled-up trash and several stray cats. Risking a pulled muscle, they gave a stern sideways look to the darkness inside their hood. Sure enough, nestled right where their neck met their shoulder, a pair of milky eyes gazed back.  
"First of all - what the fuck? Second, I'm gonna pull a muscle like this, get away from there."  
**We work well together.**  
Valery pretended not to have heard the offhand comment.  
Instead, to emphasize their point, they looked away and pulled the hood closer, thankfully feeling the tendrils withdraw as the symbiote sank back into their skin.  
Venom was right, however. His presence didn't feel as foreign - Valery wondered if that was thanks to their previous experience with such a dual existence, or if Venom was simply _better_ at it than Riot, less dominating, less demanding. The shook their head.  
"And stop peering at me like that, do you think the puppy eyes are gonna work?"  
Venom snickered.  
**Oh, they work.**  
Valery sighed.  
"Do you ever do that to Eddie?"  
**_Eddie_ does that to-**  


****

A sharp cry sounded from deeper in the alley, cutting off the symbiote's words.  
Immediately, Valery felt numberless tendrils erupt out of their skin, half-enveloping them underneath the borrowed clothing, ready to fully engulf them at any given moment.  
They also sensed the symbiote's alertness; strength coiled in their muscles of the kind they never could have managed alone. It wasn't a foreign kind of strength, something alien and _not theirs_ ; it was so unlike Riot. It was the kind of strength placed selflessly at their command in equal measure, a sort of unity that was new and not unwelcome.  
The human and the symbiote both reacted on instinct, moving towards the source of the sound without the need for consensus.  
There was a scent coming from where the sound came, too. It was fear, but it was not the kind of fear that was sweet, the kind that would make them ache with hunger they still barely understood. No, this was a sour, sharp kind of fear, it had a stench of wrongness about it instead of tantalizing sweetness.  
The human and the symbiote crept closer, almost united, flesh alive with darkness but not yet consumed by it.  
The cries were clearer now - a woman's voice, the source of the fear - and something else; gruff laughter, the overpowering stench of alcohol, the metallic scent of blood.  
It took a second for the scene to register, and then Valery let go - welcoming the change, eagerly accepting the darkness that swallowed them whole, the darkness that gave them claws and razor teeth, the darkness that gave them the power to _stop_ what was happening.  
The man had only enough time to turn around, his bloodshot eyes, glazed over by alcohol and lust, widening with sheer terror.  
The switchblade in his hand slipped through his fingers, hitting the cracked concrete at his feet.  
Not that it could have saved him.  
Nothing could have saved him.  


  
Venom's teeth closed around the entire upper half of his body, sinking through skin and bone with equal ease.  
  


Right then, Valery couldn't tell which thoughts were theirs, and which were...not.  
_Blood. Blood doesn't taste as bad as I remember._  
**We work well together.**  



End file.
